


More Of Me Than You

by Secret_Seeker



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Dark Harry, Horcruxes, M/M, Merging, Possession
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-08-16 23:03:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8121067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secret_Seeker/pseuds/Secret_Seeker
Summary: When Harry Potter destroys the diary in the Chamber of Secrets the piece of Voldemort's soul doesn't die, it is transferred to Harry and merges with the fragment he is already in possession of. Watch how Harry changes and is influenced by a dark presence in his mind, as he becomes more than Harry Potter.





	1. Tainted

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter is obviously not mine *sighs*
> 
> I'm not really sure where I'm gonna go with this story but oh well.

Tears blurred Harry’s eyes as he desperately attempted to maintain consciousness, agonising venom seared through his system, working its way into his bloodstream leaving a trail of despair and futility as it began to rob him of his senses.

He painfully craned his neck to gaze up at the mocking face of Tom Riddle, a superior smirk painted across his visage. The deliberate twirling motion of the stolen wand in his hand was used to purposely aggravate him, soft polished wood spun through elegant fingers. The very picture of innocence with a smooth angular face and wide innocent eyes, his ebony hair curled slightly yet with a confident posture that failed to belie his arrogance.

“Ah Harry,” Tom breathed in a voice that one might use to scold a child, “Such a waste isn’t it, your last dying moments as pathetic as that filthy Mudblood mother of yours, there is so much that you do not know, an ignorant child left to play in a world of adults…so naïve.” He trails off.

Met with only a defiant look of piercing emerald eyes he continues, “It really is a travesty to spill magical blood, especially of a line as ancient as the Potters but people like you will never learn.” He drew his face closer to Harry’s, “The only way to get ahead in life is to surpass others, you can’t rely on anyone.” The cold tone of his voice grew even more frigid at that.

Harry momentarily diverted his attention to Ginny, her ghostly pallor, her hair strewn out in all directions like a bloody crimson stain across the grimy chamber floor.

_So this is it huh, I’m going to die underneath the girl’s bathroom while listening to his gloating, I’m going to die before I even had a chance to live, before I even had a chance to save Ginny._

 Forcing the words out through pained lungs he spat, “You’re the one who doesn’t understand Tom, have you ever known the love of another person, ever felt the desire to care and protect another?”

The sneer returned to Riddle’s face, “What foolish notions, you sentimental Gryffindors are all the same, in the end there is no such thing as ‘friendship,’” He adds with a childish lilt, “There are only allies with varying usefulness. You have cost me much Harry Potter, although it would delight me to enlighten you to the truth of this world I’m afraid your time is running out, soon you shall be consumed by the basilisk’s venom, then you shall be no more.”

Harry felt his entire body protest as he dragged himself into a half-crouch sitting position, a gentle trill filled the air and Fawkes the phoenix soared down to his side once more, he could barely protest against the added weight on his arm, the venom no longer stung but left a strange numbing calmness in its place. He tried to shakily raise an arm to caress the glorious scarlet feathers of its plumage. Clear crystalline droplets welled up in Fawkes’ eyes, falling softly down onto the vicious puncture wound. Harry breathed in sharply feeling a surge of warmth replace the growing numbness, chasing it away, before his eyes much to his amazement the wound began to seal up. Fawkes tilted his head almost enquiringly at Harry before releasing its grip on his arm and flying away.

Harry once again met Riddle’s eyes, which were not yet the fiery pits he remembered, a rich azure boring into him; it was like watching a storm build up inside of him, his pale fist clutched at the stolen wand trembling slightly in barely repressed anger.

“But of course, phoenix tears have healing properties…how did I forget,” Harry swallowed nervously as Tom began to advance with his wand pointing directly at him, “It seems like you are in destiny’s favour Potter, it is quite remarkable how you are able to slip away from danger, almost Slytherin.” He finished, curling his lip. “Nevertheless you cannot be allowed to live; Lord Voldemort shall rise again, greater and more powerful than before!”

If the situation wasn’t quite so dire then Harry might have laughed at how conceited Riddle sounded, _I’ve been saved from the poison only to die by his hand anyway._

Harry desperately cast his gaze around the place he was hunched, until his eyes lay on the coarse off-white fang that he had previously dislodged from his arm after stabbing the basilisk through the roof of its mouth. Harry grasped it and began to crawl towards the fallen diary, lying at Ginny’s side.

“What are you doing?” Tom demanded, flicking his wand to send a stunning spell at him, Harry fortunately only just evaded the narrow beam of red light.

There was a flicker of hope burning inside him as he drove the fang through the pages of the open diary, with grim satisfaction he registered the shock on Tom’s face as his wand clattered to the ground and he doubled over.

“Stop!” He let out an inhuman scream of rage.

With determined concentration he continued to stab the pages as hard as he could, he recoiled as a black inky substance began to spurt out of the book. He looked up when he heard a rattling breath leave Tom’s throat, his face screwed up in pain.

“Y-You….c-can’t…” He gasped. Tears appeared on his body where blinding white light began to stream through, ripping the holes wider and wider.

_Just a little more…I can do this, I have to._

This time the young wizard shut the book, with finality he pierced the cover, working the fang through the thick leather cover, barely worn by age. As the phantasm of Riddle at last was vanquished Harry felt relief well up inside of him, he looked expectantly at Ginny.

_She’s supposed to wake up right? Riddle isn’t draining her life force anymore._

As he kneeled down over her body he was unaware of the remains of the diary, left abandoned on the ground beside him. He didn’t notice his ink stained hands. He didn’t notice that said hands were rapidly cooling nor the fact that ink was still lazily trickling from the ravaged book.

The raven haired boy was suddenly acquainted with a strange tickling sensation; something was creeping up his arm. Looking down in surprise his eyes widened when they were met with not a mere stain tainting his fingertips but the entirety of his hands were coated with ink, ink that was steadily spreading up his arms. Panicking he scrubbed fiercely at his hands but there was already more of the surreal liquid painting his other hand, all of his desperate attempts to remove it were to no avail, it left behind it a cool tingling on his flesh. By now he could feel it seep into his torso; diving for his fallen wand on the floor he tried any feasible spells he knew to remove it.

_What the hell is this stuff! I thought Riddle was gone, what is it doing?!_

The chill crept up his spine paralysing him until he fell in an ungraceful heap on the floor breathing shakily, he shook and tried to recoil yet there was no way to remove the indelible ink. Harry became vaguely aware that there was now no trace of skin left untainted, to his horror it was no longer spreading across his body but being absorbed, he could only lay there in mute terror staring up at the imposing statue of Salazar Slytherin, watching putrid sewage water drip from old rusted pipes. His heart was racing, beating so hard he was sure that it would burst, then the constant chill began to relax him, all of his muscles released tension until he lay limply.

At last Harry no longer felt the invading cold, that wasn’t to say that he was warm; on the contrary he was freezing but the cold felt natural, less persistent. Shivering he sat up, reclaiming the wand that had once again fallen from his grasp. Blinking rapidly and adjusting his grimy glasses he began to assess any damage he might have sustained.

_What in Merlin’s name happened, one minute I was stabbing the damn diary, the next I’m being engulfed by that disturbing hell goop of Riddle’s…is it gone?_

Even to Harry that assumption felt naïve and ill thought out; nevertheless ignorance was a short lived bliss. He contemplated standing up again, wondering if he was yet to be attacked by some other unnatural monstrosity. He needn’t wait long; absently looking down at his once wounded arm much to his alarm he noted something of grave concern. Among his expanse of alabaster flesh, his veins pulsing dully were jet black.

Harry held his arms away from his body regarding his veins with disgust, _what on Earth did that ink do to me?_ He wasn’t given long to ponder, merely seconds after the discovery of the incongruous state of his body he seized up. His forehead was on fire, the scar marring his head felt like a freshly opened wound sending waves of agony pulsing through his skull. Harry wasn’t aware if he screamed or not, he couldn’t hear anything over the pounding sound in his head as he let out a moan, clutching his head he folded up on himself passing away into unconsciousness.

\-----------------------------------

There were vague flashes of light in his head, lurid green and blinding. Screams echoed from all around, voices calling out:

“Freak.”

“Abomination.”

“That child is possessed by Satan himself.”

“Is there anything you would like to tell me?”

“Mudblood orphan!”

“Please don’t make me go back!”

\-----------------------------------

Harry squinted, peering through his eyelashes, blindly he reached out for his glasses, finding them resting neatly on a cabinet. When his eyes adjusted he came to the realisation that he was once again in the hospital wing. _This appears to be a yearly occurrence._ Glancing around he found various sweets gifted to him along with an assortment of cards from people he knew. From people that referred to themselves as his friends. The very same people who had spent the entirety of the year scorning his very existence and proclaiming him to be the heir of Slytherin. Shifting uncomfortably under the scratchy white covers he pushed them away with a sneer.

Something felt different, something felt off. His mind seemed clearer and less cluttered than usual. His eyes rested on the vials on his cabinet, a blood-replenishing potion. _Honeywater, valerian root, nettle, dittany, rose petal and silverweed…_ Harry paused, _I don’t remember ever making that potion before in class…I certainly never spent any additional time reading on them…how…_

The more Harry tried to focus on how he knew the more elusive his thoughts became, he didn’t know anything beyond just knowing that he knew, it was infuriating. He started to think back to how he even got back up to the hospital wing in the first place, Ron had been blocked off by the rocks falling.

A loud noise startled him from his thoughts when the rear door opened and Ron and Hermione burst into the room, taking in the fact that he was awake he saw matching delighted smile cross their faces.

“Harry you’re okay! We were so worried about you.” Harry cringed when she wrapped her arms around him, a shiver of disgust rose within him. Hermione misunderstood his reaction, regarding him with concern. “Are you alright, no one knows what really happened. Ron managed to clear the rocks down in the Chamber of Secrets and he found you lying there unconscious with Ginny.”

“Yeah mate, I thought that that snake had done you both in, I nearly had a heart attack,” Ron added, “That bird of Dumbledore’s appeared, it’s bloody strong, somehow it was able to drag us out of that pit, what happened down there?”

He frowned, _what did happen?_ The last thing he remembered was stabbing the diary and seeing Riddle explode in a burst of light. He felt a twinge of irritation at being interrogated, rubbing his forehead absent mindedly he scoured his mind for what had happened. He was saved from having to explain to his friends by the appearance of a certain headmaster, dressed in sky blue robes adorned with stars with an identical twinkle in those pale blue eyes.

“Ah Miss Granger, Mr Weasley, I am sure Harry will tell you all about his adventures in due course, however I’m afraid I must steal a moment of his time.”

Hermione hesitated before shooting Harry a reassuring smile and helping to shoo Ron from the room.

Dumbledore turned his dazzling grandfatherly smile on Harry. Harry met his gaze and felt something twist inside of him, revulsion. Every second under his smile tempted him closer to attacking and wiping it brutally from his face. The initial shock at this train of thought was overridden by a deep seated sense of mistrust, no matter how alarming these sudden negative feelings were they rendered him incapable of feeling at ease in his presence.

_Why do I feel like he is the single person that I despise most in this world…I don’t remember him doing anything to make me dislike him._

Harry attempted to return his smile, quashing the mutinous feelings of hatred raging within him, the dual emotions only succeeded in confusing him.

“Now Harry, I am rather intrigued by the events that occurred down in the Chamber, I am curious whether you can enlighten me.”

Harry swallowed at the earnest look on his face, one second he was looking in his eyes before he felt a violent sensation like nausea, all of his instinct screamed at him to divert his eyes. He complied, growing increasingly worried for the state of his sanity. Harry felt a desire to deny Dumbledore of anything that he may ask of him, that included information that for some unknown reason he felt the need to keep from him. He opened his mouth about to start explaining before a feeling of coldness washed over him, the words died in his mouth, barely formed.

Dumbledore frowned, “Are you alright Harry, you seem ill.” He reached out a withered hand to his forehead. Harry tried his best not to cringe at the touch.

“I’m sorry sir but I’m not feeling myself, would you mind postponing this conversation until later?” He requested in a soft voice.

A frown creased the headmaster’s aged brow, “Of course my boy, if you are not feeling up to it I understand. I’m sure that whatever happened was deeply stressful and you are still recovering.” He smiled genially, “I will be in my office, when you are better I would like it very much if you paid me a visit. I would rather not distress you when you are in a fragile condition.” Harry automatically bristled at these words. “Madam Pomfrey would have my head.”

Harry spent a while absorbed in his thoughts alone, there was no reason for his instinctual reactions to not only his friends but the headmaster, to the best of his knowledge he harboured no ill will towards any of them. The extent of his hatred for Dumbledore was alarming; the magnitude of his feelings making him wish physical harm upon him was of great concern.

Rising unsteadily from his bed Harry quickly checked around for the presence of Madam Pomfrey, who was lurking in her office. He slipped into the bathroom and splashed water into his face, hoping that the cold could shock him out of his current confusing state of mind.

He locked eyes with his reflection, it was the same but not. His eyes seemed darker and his expression oddly blander than usual except for the slight upturn of his lips at one side. As if his reflection knew something that he didn’t.

_This is ridiculous, what is wrong with me. I’m not only experiencing turbulent emotions but I’m now hallucinating, I need more sleep._

Despite all of his protests there was one thing he couldn’t refute. Something had changed.


	2. The Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, looks like I got round to writing another chapter, it's certainly been a while.

Harry was having a bad day. This wasn’t defined by excessive terrible things occurring, no, this was due to his mounting confusion and inexplicable irritability. Having being finally released he had been crippled with an odd sense of déjà vu and a feeling like something was wrong. Like when an object in your house is missing or found somewhere other than where you last put it, of course everything around him was indeed familiar but it also felt wrong.

Harry tried to shake off this feeling and remain engaged in conversations with his friends, the dry whining about exams and petty rivalries had begun to seriously grate on his nerves to the point where he had to excuse himself and lie down, claiming that he still felt exhausted and achy.

Worse than all of this was his meeting with Dumbledore, after being released, albeit reluctantly by Madam Pomfrey he had received a note from Dumbledore, requesting his presence in his office. Sitting quietly on his bed, reading over his school books, he attempted to mull over his conversation with Dumbledore. Even now he didn’t understand why he said what he did.

\------------------------

“Harry, come in,” Called Dumbledore’s somewhat weary voice from behind the aged door.

Mentally shoving down the growing feelings of unease that were once again making their inexplicable appearance in the Headmaster’s presence, Harry forced a smile on his face. He hesitantly seated himself in front of Dumbledore’s desk, his eyes tracing over an assortment of strange silver objects, littering his desk.

_From the runes engraved on the dome with the ‘Y’ shaped spike, that would appear to be a tracker of some description…specifically a blood tracker…._

_What the hell do I know about runes? I must have glanced over it in a textbook or something, my mind is all over the place…_

“…what do you think Harry?”

Harry blinked looking up with an oblivious expression on his face, “I’m sorry Sir, I’m afraid my mind wandered for a moment.”

He laughed softly, “Thoughts are a tricky thing, there is such a variety, too soft and too fast to register, susceptible to change and some the burning will that drives others. I was merely remarking on Mr Malfoy’s rather swift departure from Hogwarts the other day while you remained in the Hospital wing.”

“He doesn’t seem like one to hang himself with his own rope.”

A soft frown crept across the aged Headmaster’s face, “Indeed not.” Casting an eye to a bowl on his near right he gestured, “Would you like a Lemon drop, I find them quite refreshing?”

All of Harry’s instincts immediately screamed at him to refuse, thoughts furiously flittering around his head trying to reach some kind of cohesive order.

_Screw this, Dumbledore has always been kind to me, I have no reason to distrust him._

“Thank you Sir.” He put the glossy yellow sweet in his mouth, ignoring the way his throat practically convulsed in rebellion, sucking determinedly. There seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary, regular sharp lemon, the smile on Dumbledore’s face made him pause…

“Can you tell me what exactly happened down in The Chamber of Secrets?”

Alertness overwhelmed Harry as his mouth opened at once upon prompting, from coercing Lock heart into joining them to when he found Ginny’s body. After pausing for a moment he attempted to describe his encounter with Tom Riddle before his mouth snapped shut, a surge of cold flooded through him, he immediately felt relaxed and somewhat sleepy. To all outward appearances it would seem he lapsed into thought, there seemed to be something innately wrong about divulging the existence of Tom, although it defied all common sense, no matter how hard he tried he was truthfully unable to say anything.

“What happened then?”

Swallowing thickly the continued, “No sooner after finding Ginny, a basilisk came out of the statue of Salazar Slytherin..Fawkes appeared and blinded it, I pulled the sword out of the Sorting hat and drove it through the roof of its mouth. Some of its venom entered my bloodstream but Fawkes healed me…after that I don’t really remember.” Truth be told he didn’t remember what happened after stabbing the diary, whatever happened to it…

He registered the look of puzzlement on the Headmaster’s face, “You are quite certain that that is all that happened?”

Feeling guilty he nodded, anxiously picking  at his nails, feeling the intent stare upon him he met Dumbledore’s gaze. The twinkling blue that seemed to hold a vest web of secrets and knowledge delved into his own. The young wizard felt himself tense up as he became aware of an intrusion, a sort of dull force in his head like he was being prodded, a vicious twinge of hatred welled up inside of him as he felt an answering force push back.

He watched in alarm as Dumbledore flinched as if he had been struck, shock crossing his face, his tall hat knocked askew. Rising from his seat he offered a hand helplessly and rather futilely, “Professor are you alright?” Harry shook his head as concern and what seemed to be contempt for said concern conflicted in his head.

For a second it seemed like something dark flickered in the genial Headmaster’s eyes, before he gave a shaky smile, “Of course Harry, nothing to be concerned about….I was just…surprised.”

“About what?”

He just shook his head, placating him with a somewhat strained smile, “Nothing of any concern, I’m sure you must want to catch up with your friends before the feast.”

He frowned slightly in annoyance at his patronising dismissal, “Of course Sir, I’ll see you at the feast.”

\------------------------

After fending off everyone’s incessant questions and pasting a false smile on his face all day Harry felt a mixture of exhausted and infuriated.  Ernie as well as some of the other students that had spent the majority of the year making derogatory comments regarding Harry being the heir of Slytherin had apologised. He had thought that their apologies  would make him feel better, more accepted but it left a hollow lonely feeling, he was only accepted when it was useful, what did their apologies matter, they had still shunned him?

_At least I still have Ron and Hermione, they stayed by me throughout all of this._

The same curious sensation of slowly freezing from the inside out overcame Harry yet again when he relayed his story to his friends, he wasn’t entirely sure why he was indulging it. _What could the worst that happen be?_ By this point Harry was half wondering whether he had somehow been cursed not to talk about the existence of Tom Riddle, he’d tried discussing what had happened down in the chamber with Ginny but she had been unable to recall the diary let alone Tom, a multitude of fuzzy patches in her memory seemed to prevail, leaving him alone with the knowledge of Tom Riddle’s half existence as a memory.

It had taken a lot of effort to maintain a façade of normality throughout the day in front of his friends, they seemed just as dissatisfied with his vague description of events as Dumbledore was but much more willing to poke holes in it, questioning how Ginny ended up down there in the first place as it was implausible for a giant snake to lure her down there. Giving up albeit reluctantly they all resigned to eating the feast.

As Harry cast a look around the Great Hall he caught sight of the Slytherin table, a disconcerting sensation swept over him, taking in all of the vibrant red in his surroundings, he felt out of place.

\------------------------

The last day at Hogwarts had passed swiftly, _perhaps following Ron’s example and packing the morning before leaving wasn’t the best decision._ Harry had been unable to think of anything other than The Chamber of Secrets…and Tom Riddle, the young memory of Voldemort preserved in a diary for fifty years…even thinking about how it was possible made his head hurt. Being the only one with the knowledge that Voldemort had once again been within the school walls made him feel uneasy, it was only the thought that the diary had been destroyed that brought him comfort… _if only I could remember what happened afterwards._

The train journey had been much too short; anything that delayed his return to the Dursley’s was a plus.  He could practically feel magic draining from him the further away he got from Hogwarts, as if the monotone gray scenery presented by the city of London were devoid of life in comparison to the Wizarding World.

He had been once again greeted by a gruff grunt from his Uncle, which was in itself surprisingly pleasant for him, _then again we are out in public._ Large stubby fingers tangled in his thick hair as he was yanked into the car. Petunia gave a sniff at the sight of her nephew, eyes critically scrutinising him.

“Keep your feet off the back of the seat boy.”

“Yes Aunt Petunia,” He murmured, keeping his eyes downcast, thankful that he wasn’t sharing the backseat with his cousin. He continued to watch the blur of houses with trepidation, returning to Privet Drive meant locking away his wand…his books…his heritage.

Having his wand taken made him feel like he was missing his right hand, he might as well have been considering how vulnerable it rendered him. Harry received his usual greeting from Dudley, being shoved into the wall so his whale of a cousin could reach the kitchen; he was honestly surprised he could still fit through the door frame.

Harry had managed to avoid his Aunt’s sneers as she examined the meal he prepared; picking at the egg with her fork, what he couldn’t avoid unfortunately was his Uncle.

“Mummy I think there’s a hair in my food,” Whined pig junior.

Horror flashed across Petunia’s face, “Oh Diddy darling, I won’t let you eat that contaminated filth,” She swivelled her head on that giraffe  like neck of hers to face Harry, “Just because you are satisfied with substandard hygiene, it doesn’t mean that we will accept it, it’s expecting too much to think a freak could get anything right!”

She cast a look at Vernon, inclining her head in her nephew’s direction.

Harry let his body go limp as he was dragged out of his seat by the scuff of his collar by his Uncle’s meaty fist, wincing as his neck was forced forward. Sweat glistened on his face as he shook Harry before leading his upstairs.

“Get in there brat, we take you in, provide for you and let you eat food off our table while we put up with your sheer incompetency, I don’t believe you can be trusted to eat with us. “ He spat.

He felt disgust rise in him, _how dare he treat me like this!_ Fury replaced his usual resignation, instead of feeling flushed with anger the same cool sensation which had become frighteningly recognisable took its place.  Pressure was building up inside of him but before he could do anything, leaning behind the door frame, clinging to it for balance, Vernon slammed the door on his fingers, a sickening crack filled the room as he let out a hiss of pain, heavy footsteps echoed on the stairs becoming quieter as Harry was left alone, cradling his right hand. The creeping chill receded leaving him alone and confused.

Swallowing, he hesitantly spared a glance to his injured fingers; they were swollen and red, bent at a seemingly unnatural angle from their usual resting position. Worry filled Harry, there was no way he could fix them himself, if he told his Aunt about his most likely broken fingers there would be no chance of being driven to a hospital.

Sitting cautiously on his threadbare bed he stared at his hand helplessly, he could try to reset the bones but with no idea how to do it properly there was a risk of making it worse. Hoping for the best he moved his throbbing fingers into a relatively straight position and wound an old black sock around them. He knew that his actions likely helped in no way whatsoever, not to mention that it was painful but lacking medical knowledge or even magical knowledge about healing it was the best he could do.

\------------------------

That night Harry had difficulty trying to get to sleep, the persistent throbbing of his fingers was hard to ignore, after sleeping on the soft beds in Gryffindor common room it was hard adjusting to the lumpy mattress, which was seemingly a family heirloom from its apparent age.  At long last exhaustion overcame him.

**The raven haired boy looked around him with unease; the putrid scent of sewage filled his nostrils, his footsteps echoed softly on the damp stone floor. He stopped in front of the enlarged statue of Salazar Slytherin’s head, gazing up at the cracked rock and the scuff marks where he once slid down.**

**“My my aren’t we impressive.” Called a cool mocking voice behind him.**

**Spinning around instantly he was greeted with the sight of Tom Riddle, fully intact.**

**“Surprised?”**

**Harry shook his head vehemently, “This isn’t real; I’m not scared of you.”**

**Tom widened his eyes innocently, “And why would you have a reason to fear me, from what I’ve pieced together from dear Ginny’s ramblings my future self not only killed you’re parents but had an army of followers who possessed more power than that pitiful Ministry, but then again this _is_ just a dream.”**

**“What do you want Riddle?”**

**“I just wanted to give you my congratulations, I can’t say that I’ve ever come across a twelve year old capable of over throwing a dark lord and killing a basilisk with a sword, you are significantly stronger than I expected.”**

**Harry scowled, “What do you really want, don’t pretend that we’re friends, you tried to kill Ginny and you had those muggleborns petrified.”**

**A smile flickered across Tom’s face, dark blue eyes glinting mysteriously, “Do my actions have to make sense, this is _your_ head yes?” He stepped closer, ignoring Harry’s instinctive retreat, “However I must profess I am somewhat confused, how could you let a _muggle_ ,” His face twisted in disgust, “Walk all over you, you’re a wizard, superior to that scum, how can you allow that?”**

**Instantly defensive Harry clenched his fists, “What do you expect me to do? I can’t use magic outside of school, my wand was locked away.”**

**Rolling his eyes expressively, “The trace is placed upon the wand of a wizard, there is such a thing as wandless magic, the Ministry has much more difficulty monitoring that.”**

**“Wandless magic is accidental, how am I suppose to defend myself with it?”**

**“Must I think for you? Surely the wizard who felled a dark lord possesses an above average level of magic, it’s all about force of will, intention, everything is malleable even the minds of others.”**

**Harry watched him suspiciously, “Why should I listen to you, you’re hardly a reliable source of information.”**

**A look of mock offence crossed Tom’s face as he crossed his arms, “When have I ever lied to you? Mislead yes, lead you to incorrect conclusions perhaps, but never outright lied. You don’t have to listen to me, watching your feeble submission to those muggle pigs turns my stomach, muggles are a disease and a threat to our existence…of course the beacon of the light side is all too willing to play martyr for the esteemed headmaster.”**

**Harry stepped closer to Tom’s surprise, a look of indignation crossing his face, “I’m not a martyr, it’s self preservation, if I fight back against my family then I’ll only sustain worse injuries.”**

**Amusement filled Tom as he watched the young boy in front of him, “I would have thought a Gryffindor would be more willing to fight for his own rights…self preservation of course I can respect, an admirable trait but not in the face of lack of personal dignity, if you wanted it those muggles would be on their knees at your mercy…” He leant in close so his mouth was only a couple of inches from Harry’s ear, “But you’re afraid, afraid to reach your potential and afraid to see the world from another perspective.”**

**He snorted, “You’re perspective, what would that be? Learning to be a bigoted blood supremacist, I’ll take my chances.”**

**Scoffing softly Tom turned away, “What right have the muggles to treat you that way, jealousy and fear drives them to violence, because you believe you have no power over them you yourself hand them power over you. Of course muggles have always been prone to this behaviour; historically they have caused the deaths of so many witches and wizards, the fiery purge of the stake, why do you think we separate our world from theirs? We are not meant to exist alongside, muggleborns risk our exposure and the foolish Ministry will bring about our ruin.”**

**“That doesn’t mean we should sink to their level, not all muggles mean us harm.”**

**“Oh they do, it is in their nature to fear what they don’t understand, so again I ask, what will you do with those muggles, no one will help you, certainly not Dumbledore, trust me I know,” He added bitterly as an afterthought, “You have to help yourself, prove your worth, your power. It isn’t evil to show them their place, evil is an arbitrary concept; it’s what the weak label anything different from their own strict code of morals and laws.”**

**“Even if that is so, I’m not powerful, I’m not above anyone. I’m just a boy who didn’t belong anywhere, always considered worthless by those I call family, I have a false value placed on me by the public for something I don’t even remember.”**

**Tom was quiet for a moment, only the gentle gush of water through the rusted pipes filled the silence as he regarded his enemy. “Can you not see how the muggles have harmed you, how they are undeserving of your compassion, you spoke of survival, the only way to get ahead in life is to step on those beneath you, and that filth that you share blood with are certainly that. I can help you, if you’ll let me.”**

**His face twisted, “I no more trust you than I trust them.”**

**“Surely you’ve heard of using the resources available to you, after all this is a dream, you can trust your own mind can’t you?”**

**Shaking his head vigorously, “You’re not me, Tom, we’re different people.”**

**Tom spun his wand through long pale fingers thoughtfully, “That’s true. Still it’s common sense to fight back against your suppressors, right? Even Gryffindor like, just bare it in mind, the muggles can’t make you do anything you don’t want to…the opposite isn’t necessarily true.”**

**Tom glanced meaningfully down at his hand, “You don’t have to suffer Harry.” He offered his own hand to Harry.**

**Flinching immediately he twisted his body away, it would appear that the injury he’d sustained while awake had transferred to his dream.**

**Ignoring Harry’s protests he grasped his hand, instantly he pulled back, expecting pain…which didn’t come.**

**Staring in shock he found his hand perfectly healthy, the swelling gone and his fingers in place.**

**“…how?”**

**Making his voice comically childish he chimed, “Mmmagic.”**

**Soon the scenery began to blur, as if Harry’s glasses had been removed, Tom frowned as he glitched in and out of existence.**

**“It would appear that you’re waking up, remember what I said…Harry.”**

\------------------------

Harry bolted upright in bed, gasping for breath, his pyjama shirt stuck to his chest with sweat, his eyes flickered to his hand, bound in a sock, unwrapping it cautiously he twitched his fingers. No pain.

_How…did Tom? No…it can’t be, it was just a dream, Tom is dead, all that remains is the shadow of Voldemort I saw after Quirrel died. Then how did my hand heal? Could I have performed accidental magic in my sleep? That has to be it._

Even if it was the most likely explanation it still felt fake, Tom had seemed very real…although this meant, if he was capable of still performing accidental magic, what else could he do?  Tom’s suggestions came to mind, before being swiftly dismissed; surely it wouldn’t come to that.


End file.
